


if we have each other

by ftmpeter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Slice of Life, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, just so disgustingly sappy it's ridiculous, morgan is about five or six in this, plot? never heard of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmpeter/pseuds/ftmpeter
Summary: "Do you ever just, like, feel like you’re upside down?""You are upside down, Pete.""Sounds fake."
Relationships: Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 167





	if we have each other

**Author's Note:**

> before any of you yell at me i KNOW it's been almost two months since i last uploaded i'm SORRY please don't get the guillotine out
> 
> on a real note, i'm super sorry for not posting. i've been going through a lot as of late, which is heightened by the coronavirus pandemic, and every time i try to finish something i end up losing motivation halfway through. but my brother was watching infinity war the other day and seeing tony interact with peter gave me that little boost of serotonin i needed to post this. there are more things coming, i promise. i hope all of you are staying safe and exercising social distancing if possible <3

"Do you ever just, like, feel like you’re upside down?"

"You are upside down, Pete."

"Sounds fake."

Tony shoots an unamused look at the kid, who is currently upside down in a chair. His legs, clothed in the pajama bottoms he slept in, are wrapped around the backside to balance himself, and his face is steadily getting redder from all the blood rushing to his head. "Why do you have to talk like that?"

Peter huffs, sticking his tongue out at Tony. It doesn’t have much of an effect, probably due to the fact that he looks like a four year old. "Talk like what?"

"Like.. like a teenager."

"Mr. Stark, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I _am_ a teenager. Certified and everything."

"Shut up."

Ignoring his exaggerated pout, Tony turns back to the pan in front of him. He’s cooking breakfast, but he pauses for a second, realizing something. "Kid, why are you up so early? It’s, like, nine o’clock. That’s early for you."

"For your information, it is 10:05, so your point is invalid."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I.. plead the fifth?"

"Kid, answer the question."

"I just don’t see the relevance - "

"Peter Benjamin Parker, answer the question or I will hit you with this oven mitt."

"Okay, _maybe_ I didn’t, but in my defense, I was doing homework and then Ned texted me wanting to play Minecraft and then - "

Tony interrupts his rambling. "That is not in your defense whatsoever. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite."

"Listen!" Peter says, suddenly twisting around so that he’s the right way up again. He blinks, obviously disoriented, and takes a moment to gather his senses. "Listen."

"I’m listening."

"Oh. I wasn’t actually planning on saying anything."

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. "Just.. go wake up Morgan. And for Christ's sake, get some sleep tonight. If I send you back to your aunt after this and you're half-conscious it is _me_ who has to face her wrath. Is that what you want? Me? Facing her?"  
  
"Better you than me?"

Peter ducks to avoid the oven mitt.

-

After breakfast, which involves far too many pancakes being eaten and far too much syrup being spilled, Peter and Morgan disappear for the rest of the morning and afternoon into some complicated game that Tony doesn’t even attempt to understand. He makes the decision to conjure up some good old-fashioned coffee and retreat to his study. It’s not because he has anything in particular to work on. He just has a really comfy desk chair.

Spinning in said chair absentmindedly, Tony sips at his coffee and starts to "organize his thoughts."

(Pepper, who is gone on a business trip, got that from some self-help article on the Internet. God help _him_.)

It’s Saturday, one of the weekends where Peter sleeps over at the cabin. It’s been pretty routine, bordering on domestic. A younger version of Tony would have never believed that he’d be baking cookies at all, let alone yesterday on a Friday night, but they weren’t even that bad. The batch tossed in the trash because he accidentally used salt instead of sugar doesn’t count.

Tony eventually stands up, intent on putting his mug back. He stops as soon as he begins to turn the doorknob, however, and hears a single pair of footsteps thudding down the hall.

Cracking it open, he peers out and sees Morgan, doing her best to carry a large amount of blankets - did she really go digging in the closets? - and stay relatively quiet at the same time. Her back is facing him, so she doesn’t know he’s there. Once she vanishes from view, Tony steps out, shaking his head at her antics. He knows better than to ask. For all he knows, she’s going to use them as a cape and hold a meeting for the imaginary kingdom she rules over.

He gets to the kitchen, and as he cleans out the mug, he distantly hears a cabinet slam. Tony’s tempted to yell out a sarcastic _you darn kids get off my lawn_ , but doesn’t. There’s only so many grandpa jokes you can make before you become one.

He walks towards the noise, only to catch a rather familiar teenager going the opposite way.

"Whatcha got there, bud?"

Peter freezes in his tracks, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly attempts to hide the collection of pillows he’d amassed behind his back, but it fails spectacularly. "Uh, nothing?"

"Sounds fake."

"Oh my God, _please_ don’t start using my slang."

"Don’t drag me like this."

"Mr. _Stark._ "

"Yes?"

"It is officially time to stop."

Tony holds a hand to his heart. "That’s rude."

"It was supposed to be,” Peter says, making a beeline for the sliver of space between Tony’s arm and escape. He misjudges the size, however, because he slams into his shoulder and before he can protest, the man has him in a headlock. “Hey! Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me what you’re doing with all those pillows."

"It’s a secret!"

"Does this secret happen to involve Morgan and the several different blankets I caught a glimpse of her carrying on my way over here?"

".. Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Not really," Tony answers. He lets him go, but first makes sure to ruffle his curls so they all stick up in different directions. "You’re not that convincing, sadly."

Peter rolls his eyes. Squinting up at his hair, he shakes it out of the way and crinkles his nose. "You didn’t have to do that."

"Oh, but I did."

"Morg wants to build a really big fort in her room. But don’t tell her I said that! I promised I’d keep it a secret."

He snorts. "Way to break a promise. Betrayal starts young, I suppose."

"By the way, I think she’s going to ask you to join us after it’s done."

"Wait - "

Adjusting the pillows in his hands, Peter grins. He turns towards the stairs, and says, "I would have been more understanding if you hadn’t just put me in a headlock _and_ made my hair a mess."

"Kid - "

"Get ready, Mr. Stark!"

Tony sighs loudly for dramatic effect, but he can’t help the way his lips twitch up into a smile.

-

"Daddy!" Morgan yells a few hours after evening falls, clambering down the stairs with Peter on her tail. She finds Tony in the living room, where he’s laying on the couch and flipping through TV channels. "Daddy, I wanna show you something!"

Tony sits up, and says, in mock surprise, "You do?"

"Yes! Me ’n Petey, we wanna show you something!"

"Oh, so it’s not just you? I thought you said _you_ wanted to show me something."

Morgan giggles. "We both do!"

"You have to make that clearer!" He laughs, poking at her ribs. She shrieks and jumps away. "What is this mysterious thing?"

Peter has a knowing twinkle in his eye. "No telling."

"Aw, come on," he complains. "Can’t you give your old man a break? I don’t like guessing games."

"Nuh-uh!" Morgan says. "You gotta come _see_."

"Well, with persuasion skills like that, I can’t say no."

They make their way to her room, Tony just behind them. He watches Morgan’s long, straight brown hair fly around her as she skips, humming some cartoon theme song she’s been obsessed with for weeks now. He watches Peter’s hyperactivity come out in the most adorable ways, from tapping mindless patterns out on his thighs to twisting a rubber band in his hands. A warm, almost floaty feeling begins to form in Tony’s chest. These are _his_ kids.

And Pepper’s, of course.

Okay, since when can he feel her trademark glare at him even when she’s not there to give it?

When Tony gets to the doorway, Morgan turns around and gestures dramatically. "Behold!"

"How did you learn that word?"

"Petey taught me!"

Tony raises his eyebrows at Peter, who shrugs. "What?"

"Stop making me look a dumb parent in front of your sister."

"You do that yourself, Mr. Stark."

"Jesus. Brutal." It was almost imperceptible, but Tony could swear Peter blushed when he called Morgan his sister. He almost wants to say, _of course I’m going to say stuff like that. Blood or not, you’re her brother. You’re too insecure, kid._ He doesn’t, though, and simply flicks at his ear, smirking when he shoves at him.

Stepping into the room, Tony whistles.

He knows he has two geniuses with IQ levels that rival his, but he often forgets the things they can do when thrown together. The fort, instead of being your typical childlike kind, stretches across her carpet floor and ends at the dresser on the other side. It’s propped up using various contraptions - a stack of books holding down one corner, a heavy toy on another. Her fairy lights, a Christmas gift from Rhodey a few years back, are in the fort itself, visible from the entrance which is decorated with colorful construction paper cut up into ribbons.

"D’ya like it?" Morgan asks, bouncing up and down. She’s practically beaming, proud of her creation.

"Do I _like_ it?" Tony repeats. He picks her up, lets her sit at his waist. "Of course I do! You built all this?"

"Petey helped too!" She laughs, kicking her feet. "He helped a lot."

Peter smiles sheepishly. "Morg did most of the work."

"Well, yeah! I planned it! But you helped! Don’t be so m - mo - "

"Modest?" Tony supplies, quietly marveling at his daughter’s vocabulary.

"Yeah! That! I read it in a book."

"You heard the girl," he says. "Don’t be so modest."

Peter’s face is clearly pink now. Changing the subject remarkably fast, he prompts, "Morg, don’t you want Mr. Stark to go inside?"

"Traitor," Tony mouths as Morgan squeals and squirms out of his grip, talking about the pretzels and chips she has in there so _please_ be careful getting in, Daddy, they’ll spill. He tries to not groan slowly lowering himself to the ground, because damn it, he’s not that old.

His knees say otherwise.

Many elbows in ribs later, they get situated. It’s a miracle the whole thing doesn’t collapse on them, to be honest.

Peter yawns, burying himself into Tony’s side without a second thought.

"I’m tired," he mumbles.

"That’s because you stayed up all night," Tony says helpfully.

Morgan picks up her teddy bear, hugging it tightly. "Daddy, you should tell us a bedtime story."

And because Tony is just that great, he does, inventing something on the fly about royal knights and cursed princesses and cool fire-breathing dragons. He actually gets kind of into it, imitating voices and everything, until about twenty minutes in when he realizes that they’re no longer listening.

The warm, floaty feeling in Tony’s chest from earlier grows looking at Morgan, who is fast asleep and snoring. Her head rests on his stomach, and with Peter in his arms, it’s a slightly uncomfortable position to be in, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Tony realizes, then, that this is what happiness is supposed to be - underlying, encompassing reassurance, certainty that the moment you’re living in is worth it. He’s spent his whole life complacent with the idea of never finding peace, convinced that his trauma would follow him to the grave, but this _is_ peace. This is his soul finally letting its guard down, finally settling where it’s meant to be.

He lets his fingers brush gently against Peter’s cheek, and smiles softly when the kid unconsciously leans into it. Even in sleep, he trusts him, and that’s something he’s never, ever going to take for granted.


End file.
